


Dreaming About that Halloween Treat

by RowlettLesbian



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Australian Slang, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, I mean I tried to do the slang, Implied Sexual Content, Junkenstein's Revenge, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes is a Little Shit, M/M, Necrophilia, Needles, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 09:05:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16385216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowlettLesbian/pseuds/RowlettLesbian
Summary: Roadhog gets woken up by his partner in an odd mood.Junkrat had a lovely dream, and it gave him an idea. Several ideas, what with how sexy his boyfriend is.Roadhog hopes this doesn't mean the bloodthirsty little maniac is going to try and kill him.





	Dreaming About that Halloween Treat

**Author's Note:**

> Halloween spirit has me feeling creepy. This is just a warm-up. I needed some romantic fluff written about some Junkers.

“Eh, eh Roadie!”

Roadhog groaned. He’d been well asleep, curled up in bed around his stringy boss, only for said string to wake him up at, Roadie checked the time, three in the morning. Resigned to his fate, he stretched his gnarled-up back muscles by extending the arm Junkrat was propping up his head on. The ratty spaz’s head was twitching upwards in time with Roadhog’s heartbeat, the pulse in his bicep was so strong. Or maybe Junkrat really was just that empty-headed. 

“What,” he snarled at his skin-n-bones partner. Rather than flinching away like any half-sane man would, the maniac snuggled in closer and nipped at Roadhog’s collar bone. Junkrat’s yellow eyes and yellow teeth glinted out of the darkness at him. Little prick was lucky he was…well, himself. 

“Roadie, my Hoggie-wog, it’s Halloween night. I’v’a story for ya.” Junkrat’s flesh fingers were digging into the meat of Roadhog’s shoulder. This wasn’t normal Junkrat mania. Something had riled ‘im so much it didn’t just jolt him awake, but it drove him to wake up Roadhog as well. Junkrat knew how hard it was for Roadhog to sleep. In fact, he usually worked harder to make sure they slept than Roadhog himself did; little bugger was constantly shoving his ear against Roadhog’s back when they were riding, listening to his lungs ‘n trying to feed him. Whatever had spooked the rat, Roadhog had best find out if he wanted any more sleep tonight.

Roadhog grunted at Junkrat to go on with whatever he was sayin’. The vibrations in his chest seemed to make Junkrat shudder against his belly, and his boss giggled a bit in that shrill way of his. Ratty bastard tucked his lopped-off thigh between Roadhog’s own legs and relaxed his grip on Roadhog’s shoulder. 

“Well,” started his crazy man, “it all up’n starts on Halloween night in this abandoned castle…”  
*****  
Doctor Junkenstein was enamoured with the beauteous creature sitting on his laboratory table. 

His lovely creation was a behemoth of perfect parts carefully harvested from the nearby cemetery. Anything his darling desired, any limb his dear deemed suitable, he would receive it and Junkenstein would be overjoyed to provide for the luscious monstrosity of death he now shared his everything with. With his dark, glassy eyes and rippling greyed muscles, his enormous gut and threatening growl, his Monster was so sweet and bloodthirsty and cold. 

His Monster sat up on the cold metal table, which groaned threateningly beneath his magnificence. The skylight was thrown open, and moonlight glinted off of the medical equipment in leu of electric lighting. His Monster was the first being he’d ever met not to run screaming at the sight of Junkenstein’s home. In fact, his Monster seemed fascinated by the blade collection, the meat hooks hung from the ceiling, the green-yellow jars of lesser specimens he’d practiced on to ensure his Monster got only his best work. His Monster was a real smart piggie, appreciatin’ the finer things in life. 

“Mruuuuhng,” moaned his Monster. He turned to face Junkenstein, throwing his thighs over the side of the table. His boots sounded like deadweight falling against the floor. Those thighs tensed so his Monster could stand, and Junkenstein drooled over the sight of the musculature he knew as well as his own. Those bloodless thighs were thicker ‘round than he was. His Monster rose to his full height and approached him. Junkenstein howled in laughter, and opened his arms wide to embrace his beloved creation!

His Monster reached out one thick arm and grasped him around the waist with a hand near as big as Junkenstein’s head, with mismatched fingers only similar in size. Each one digit could easily snap every one of Junkenstein’s bones. ‘Twas delicious. He was lifted up with a gentle tilt backwards so he was forced to grab on to his Monster’s thumb until he felt himself settled up onto his Monster’s solid shoulder. His prosthetic leg dangled down over his Monster’s chest, and he wrapped his flesh arm around his Monster’s handsome head and giggled into the greasy black hair sewn into his Monster’s scalp. 

“Awww, lovey, ya gonna take us on a blood bath? How excitin’! Who we gonna kill, huh you handsome as monsta? Or we gonna do elsewise? I gots us some nice black nail pol, or some tele, or we could just snog. Oooh can we snog, my Monster?”

Junkenstein was bouncing up and down on his Monster’s rigid limb as he kicked his feet about. Absently, he pulled a needle and some of his thick black corpse-thread out of his lab coat pocket. His Monster wavered on his slow limbs for a moment before thumping forwards into the corridor out to the castle proper. While they walked, Junkenstein threaded the needle and lickety-split plunged the metal through the nearest seam. Was getting a little weak, that muscle near the armpit, so he’d best patch it up real quick. 

Oh, it was the little things that made his Monster so perfect! The way everything about ‘im was so big, how the formaldehyde made such a pretty green color, but more than any of that, his Monster, all big stitches and rot, was the apocalypse given form. 

His Monster rumbled to a stop out in the cold air and Junkenstein pulled up the thread from where he’d knotted it off near a nipple and bit it snappy so he could put away the needle and focus on his undead-luv. His Monster had carried out to the balcony overlooking the valley. Tons of little people were down there, with shiny lights and glinty smiles. Tons of Omnics too. 

“Oh, my bodacious Monster!” Junkenstein swooned himself back so he was draped across his Monster’s shoulders. Such a big head, he’d chosen, that it put Junkenstein in the perfect spot to mack on that massive neck. No bruises, not post-mortem, but still likely to get him some grumbles of appreciation from his romantic hunk of a Halloween date.

“Mrrrrrooooooan,” said his Monster. Junkenstein thought that was proper brilliant of his fat piece of man-meat. He cackled and twisted his prosthetic arm to yank out a happy little treat for the tricky treaters down below. 

“Everything's coming up explodey!” he screeched into the haunted night. Beneath his seat, his monster bellowed into the night and pumped his arms up into the sky. Bracketed Junkenstein between two lovely round biceps n’ triceps, that did. He copped a squeeze with his flesh hand and lobbed the bomb with his prosthetic. Then, he and his Monster laughed together, shaking with mirth and destruction as the flames caught and the screaming started.   
*****  
Roadhog was… speechless. 

“So, ya like that, Roadie? Cuz I gotta tell ya, gots me somethin’ in the mood, dreamin’ about you and I making things go kaboom.” Junkrat was looking up at him with those big earnest eyes and a happy grin, unable to shut up much less tell a lie. Roadhog sighed and tried not to notice too hard how it made Junkrat’s thigh ride up higher between his own.

“You…want to fuck my corpse?” Roadhog couldn’t help but ask. Junkrat seemed to look through his Hogdrogen mask for a moment before he started laughing even higher pitched than before. 

“Nah, nah, Hog! I jus’ wanna have a Halloween with you all romantic-like. With matching set costumes and roleplayin’. S’not like you ain’t a monster in the sack already, course, but I hear it’s lotsa blokes like ta play doctor!” Junkrat, now, was swirling a finger round and round on Roadhog’s sternum. Those delicate, picky, painted fingers were always so precise when making all of those explosives. This man, this dumbass, was the only one who could match him for bloodshed. This was the maniac who dreamed about romantic evenings with his partner, unconventional as they may be. Roadhog imagined for a moment the pout Junkrat would get if he said no. It was an obnoxious pout.

“Alright,” he said. Then he shoved his snout into his man’s neck and snuffled loud and long. His skinny-arse madman screamed fit to shatter the windows, which meant joy coming from his rat, and threw his arm around Roadhog’s head and wove those dexterous fingers into his hair.

“Knew you’d love my story, Roadie-luv! Knew it! Ah ha ha! Now get up here an’ kiss me, my Monster!”


End file.
